


Scratch

by Bridie_Brackenhoe



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hilith, Insert ship name for all three of them here..., Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bridie_Brackenhoe/pseuds/Bridie_Brackenhoe
Summary: She comes for Zelda. She finds a very different creature.Completed 22/1/19





	1. Threshold

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I've written in a long time. 
> 
> I have no idea if there's any interest in this ship other than my own. I am willing to continue. 
> 
> Forgive any mistakes; written quickly for shits and giggles. I own nowt.

"It's mutually beneficial, Mary, think of it as a transaction," Zelda says as she reapplies the lipstick she has lost on Lilith's damp skin Lilith had agreed. It was a good arrangement that took care of the urges demanded by her human form without the need for the messy bits. She has no need for the fripperies, the hand holding, the time spent together for any purpose other than the purely physical. Still, sometimes she lays in bed a long time after Zelda has left so as not to lose the smell of perfume and smoke on her pillow. 

Mary had kept her own itches scratched, apparently for a lack of anyone to do the scratching, but her yearning for a companion stained her organs, heart, liver, spleen, bleeding over even in death so that sometimes Lilith can taste her loneliness like bile. She tamps it down the best she can, writhes with Zelda to ease the lust at least. She has lived in many bodies, each one different and each one with echoes of a former inhabitant that she can never quite erase; loves, hates, fears all just below the surface, sensations not unlike vertigo that takes some time to get used to. Lilith has alway enjoyed the angry ones, the remnants of rage and hatred are like zaps of electricity through her system. She bores quickly of the depressed, envies the satisfied, fears the lonely.

Lilith has no intention of ever being alone and so she had propositioned Zelda almost as soon as she met her. Tall, mercurial, ice cold, Lilith is as drawn to her as she is to her own new reflection. She has a type, apparently. Each time they meet, Zelda leaves almost immediately after they are both sated, unfolding long limbs from mussed sheets, pulling her exquisitely tailored armour back on one piece at a time and each time, Lilith curses Mary's pathetic soul for the sense of loss. She tells herself she doesn’t need Zelda, only the services she can provide. 

When Zelda’s visits become fewer and further between and Lilith hears that she and Blackwood have also come to what sounds more than just an “arrangement”, it’s Lilith’s own jealousy that bubbles to the surface. It’s not a new sensation; she’s been replaced before and by more than a High Priest with a wandering eye and hands to match. It’s also not one she takes an iota of enjoyment in, and of course she has her needs, which are being woefully unmet. Better to put an end to this Blackwood saga so they can go back to the way they were: mutual and beneficial. So she seeks Zelda out, turns up on the doorstep of the Spellman Sisters' mortuary, collar turned up, dark glasses firmly on despite the sun having set hours ago. Never, in all the time she has walked the earth and that has been a very long time, has she ever needed to be with someone. Yet here she is. 

She knows that Zelda is going to be appalled. She is going be embarrassed, which will serve her right. She is going to fumble over an explanation for why her niece's teacher is ringing their bell at half ten at night, she is... 

She is not at home. 

"Ooh, no, sorry, Miss Wardwell." It’s the sister who has answered the door. "No idea where she is, to be honest." 

Lilith could have a fair guess. She feels Mary's heart sink; it must be a remnant of Mary because it can’t be her own disappointment, and so she stands, staring down at Hilda, unsure as to what to do. 

Hilda's smile is dissolving and it's getting awkward. 

"Is there something... I can help you with...?" 

Lilith sniffs; Hilda. She’s never even considered Hilda. She’s pretty enough, not that it really matters, and she has a musk that is not unpleasant, an earthiness that her sister does not possess. She feels the tickle of Hilda's questioning empathy at the base of her skull and shuts that straight down. She’s not even sure of her own intentions yet, but she’s sure they’re not pure. Yes, a sibling is always an interesting prospect….

"Do you know, Miss Spellman,” she purrs, pulling off her glasses and stepping over the threshold into the warmth of the house. “I think there is.”


	2. Hearth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not going to win a Booker Prize but I wrote it. I know it's a bit rushed but real life is a bitch. I hope it's okay.

"Then come in, come in. It's freezing out there!" Hilda closes the door and, there is no other word for it, she bustles. Lilith is swept into the Spellmans’ cavernous kitchen and is enveloped in warmth and the smells of herbs, food, and an undertone of alcohol. 

"Shall I pop the kettle on?”

Lilith takes a bet on that undertone. 

“You know, it’s about this time, I always enjoy a wee nightcap…” 

Hilda wrinkles her nose and grins conspiratorially. “Ooh, you are naughty!” She grabs a stool to reach the top shelf of a tall cupboard. “Good thing Zelda has some brandy we could snaffle; I’m sure she won’t mind.”

They so snaffle, more than Lilith had planned on and she’s starting to feel the effects, sitting at the well worn kitchen table. She finds herself relaxing, her reason for being there receding into the cloudiness. 

Hilda is an old soul and a crafty one, and Lilith can’t quite read her and she knows that’s not unintentional. The daffy exterior is just that; there’s a strong mental magic, more internalized than the outwardly expressive Zelda uses. No showy spells, no conjuring. A hearth witch, they’d called her. She’s just so damned _intriguing_. Comfort and healing are not something that Lilith is familiar with and this is not like it is with Zelda, straight forward, uncomplicated, almost clinical. She can’t just pull off bits of clothing and expect Hilda to follow suit. There are boundaries here and the challenge is so foreign and just so delicious. 

Hilda's cheeks are flushed from the brandy and Lilith finds herself wanting more than anything to touch them.

She does, because breaking is what boundaries are for. 

Hilda's eyes widen. She clears her throat, murmurs something about refilling the glasses and stands up too quickly, knocking the dregs of her brandy over the table, swears and sways. Lilith pushes her own chair back and follows Hilda to the sink, because she will push this, even though she knows Hilda will only let her go so far. But she has to touch…

So unlike her sister, she thinks, and she runs a hand along the curve of Hilda's hip, and she can’t help but dig her fingers into the glorious softness she finds there. Hilda gasps and pulls away; Lilith can feel the dull thud of a quickened pulse. 

"It's... Okay....?" 

Soothing does not come naturally to her, so she slowly reaches out to cup the flushed cheek again. She’s closer this time, and she’s surprised when Hilda sighs, closes her eyes and nuzzles her hand slightly. Lilith tilts her head, and bends to bring their lips together. This is... chaste, practically virginal compared to Zelda's nipping and biting but the heat between her legs is the same. 

Slowly, Hilda responds, takes a tiny step forward, guides the hand cupping her face to her heavy breast. Lilith wants to push back, to overwhelm, to control, but instead she squeezes softly, runs a thumb over horrifically patterned fabric to find a nipple and when she does, it is Hilda that surges against her, throwing them off balance until Lilith hits the edge of the counter with a yelp of pain and has to steady herself. 

Hilda is breathing heavily, avoiding eye contact. She burns, and for a second, Lilith's heart plummets and she is overwhelmed with centuries of rejection, pain, regret. Hilda’s mask has slipped; she is raw, exposed, it's like Lilith is being suffocated. Then as soon as it is all encompassing, too much, it is gone. Her ears ring, she reels, and gasps for air.

"You should probably head home now, Miss Wardwell.”

She won’t even turn to look at Lilith. Her voice is low and quiet. 

Lilith, shaken to her core, picks up her coat and she wants to say something. When she can’t think of anything, a rarity, she silently opens the front door and heads out into the cold. 

She knows she will be back for Hilda Spellman.


	3. A Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short interlude. Christmas is a busy time. Hoping to get more done on this when I can. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, they're fuel to the fire.

Zelda turns up, eventually. Lillith knows from the way she knocks and the stench of the Blackwood creature that strikes an unfamiliar, unwelcome note on the cold air that accompanies her over the threshold, that this will be a quick visit. 

They go through the motions, Lilith scratches, and groans, but the flush of her orgasm is weak and she’s left with a bitter taste in her mouth

As Zelda begins to dress, she asks after Hilda. Zelda whips around, hair flying, eyes narrow, teeth gritted.

“Hilda? Why do you want to know about Hilda?”

Lilith has a hit a nerve and she’s unwilling to let it go.

“I was at the mortuary a few nights ago. You were… out.” The word drips a precisely placed poison into a wound of Zelda’s own making. Lilith gives it a another poke, “Hilda wasn’t. She’s very accommodating, isn’t she?”

Zelda stands, silk blouse unbuttoned. Lilith feels a pang of regret; she is such a beautiful creature, but Blackwood is still lingering and Lilith won’t come second to anyone. 

“Hilda wouldn’t know what to do with you if you provided her with instructions. The woman is a dingbat.”

“She had a very good idea, if you ask me…A pretty mouth, certainly.” 

The hands that twist the buttons home are claws; she isn’t as skilled at hiding as Hilda is and Lilith can almost touch her rage and is that a hint of jealousy? For a moment, she allows herself to feel smug that the thought of losing her makes Zelda react this way until she realises that Zelda isn’t jealous of Hilda… 

Well, well, that is a twist. 

Zelda sees too late that she’s an open book, snatches up her clothes and heads to the bathroom to finish dressing. 

She leaves without a word.


	4. Burial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started off as a bit of Hilith fluff, but suddenly Zelda got involved and now it's gone all dark and angsty. I'm invested in it now, so this is genuinely nervewracking...
> 
> Headcanons are mine, so if anything doesn't add up, it's all me. 
> 
> I now have no idea where this is going or how I will end it. Superb.

Zelda kills Hilda that night, garrottes her from behind as she sits reading. Hilda fights hard as she tends to do with the slower methods, which is why Zelda usually uses the advantage of quick, surprise deaths. She tells herself that it's so Hilda doesn't suffer but really she's afraid that given enough time to fight back, Hilda might one day overpower her. Best to put her down quickly. Tonight though, she wants Hilda to know she is about to die at Zelda’s hand again, so she twists and twists until Hilda goes limp and falls sideways onto the sofa, eyes bloodshot and empty. Zelda sits in the chair opposite for a long time, muscles screaming, smoking and sipping a brandy.

She’s killed Hilda before because she was annoyed by her, because she was furious at her, because she was tempted by her, and once just because she had stepped on Vinegar Tom’s tail, but she has never killed her because she was afraid of losing her again.  
Zelda smiles sadly, at least the irony is not lost. 

She and Edward had hidden in the barn when the townspeople came to take Hilda. They accused her of bewitching the other children by conjuring flowers and poppets to make them laugh. At five years old, she had been thrown into a tiny cell alone. Their mother had begged for them to take her in her daughter’s place but the men had knocked her down and loaded a bawling Hilda into a wagon. She had screamed for Zelda. 

Fully aware of the consequences, their mother had waited until midnight, lit the candles, whispered the incantations, and cast her last spell to transport Hilda to safety. The men came back for her the next day. There was no trial. She hanged before the sun went down. 

Their father had taken Hilda and headed back to England. Zelda and Edward were to stay to finish their education, he had said, to be upstanding and to devote themselves to the Dark Lord. Their mother was dead, their father gone, their name was in tatters, and she and Edward were alone. Resentment festered in Zelda as they suffered through years of poverty while they moved to a new town and fought to reclaim their former standing. She hardened. Then Hilda returned, the wide-eyed genesis of their destruction drawn back across the ocean by a blood moon, to sign the Dark Lord's book. She had grown into a beautiful and competent witch, sequestered away in the safety and loose morals of another continent. Petite, plump and easy to smile, she filled out the hand-me-down dresses in a way Zelda never did. Zelda was mortified that she attracted so much attention, that she was seemingly oblivious to the lustful stares of the boys in the village and the men at the taverns but that mortification turned to horror when she began to stare as well. 

She was fascinated by the way this new Hilda moved, so different from her own affected straight-backed stiffness. She would find herself sneaking quick, embarrassed peeks at well-rounded curves and thick thighs lit by candlelight as they changed into their nightgowns. Her fingers would fumble between her own skinny legs once Hilda's breathing had evened out into gentle snores under the covers of their shared bed. Having Hilda back next to her, feeling her weight and warmth was a comfort but Hilda was always too much, too dramatic, too loud. When she cooked, she was left with an abundance that made Zelda wince after the austerity she and Edward suffered. Her garden was a fecund bounty, wild and overflowing compared to their mortal neighbours’ barren fields. Then one night, when she was sure Hilda was asleep, Zelda had reached out with her free hand to slip it under Hilda's gown. She came hard and silently with teeth gritted as Hilda stirred and turned away from her. She fashioned her own bed on the floor after that.

Shame and desire and hate all burned Zelda from the inside until not even the retribution of the scourge could absolve her and that was when she killed Hilda for the first time. She’d had no intention of resurrecting her, but as she sat and stared at Hilda's broken and bruised body, the fear of not having her sister around again overwhelmed her. She had cried for the first time in years holding Hilda's rapidly cooling hand. 

When Hilda had dug herself out of the Cain pit and returned to the house, she was filthy and crying but most definitely alive. 

Why? She had asked. What have I done to you? 

Too much, Zelda had replied, for you to ever understand. 

She had been relentless, harrowing her sister to within an inch of her resurrected life for the vindication. She made sure the others in the coven knew that she could expose them, turning them against Hilda, who withered in the shadows of her sister's ridicule. Her brightness dimmed as Zelda sought to quell the threats that she presented. She covered herself up, hid herself away, while Zelda thrived. The boys and men stopped staring and though Zelda never did, she became adept at burying those desires under her mantle of superiority.

Today, though, that mantle had cracked. The Wardwell woman was supposed to be nothing more than a distraction, _her_ distraction. She'd be damned if she'd lose Hilda to her. Zelda stubbed out her cigarette and drained her glass.

Hilda would always be Zelda's. 

She was buried again before Sabrina got home.


	5. Cleansed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to make Hilda better. 
> 
> It might take more chapters.

Hilda wakes up with dirt in her mouth under the unbearable pressure of several cubic feet of Biblical soil. She pushes and wriggles, years of practice at digging her way out coming to the fore until she is gasping lungfuls of damp night air, in between vomiting mud, dead leaves and more than one earthworm. It’s raining hard and her bones ache. She remembers the pain of the wire digging into her neck and of Zelda behind her and she knows this had been a bad one. She pulls herself out and sits on top of her grave, brushing herself off as best she can. When she looks towards the mortuary, the lights are all out. 

Zelda has gone. 

+++

Lilith comes back for Hilda Spellman. 

She hasn’t really stopped thinking about her. She’d actually enjoyed her company, her calming aura. She’d been more at peace drinking stolen brandy at Hilda’s table in the kitchen that was the seat of her powers, than she had in a long time. She’d actually laughed, and even though genuine smiles were something she was still working on, there had been a few of those too. Hilda, with her giggles and sweets and balms, charms and dear Satan, so much jam, had done something no one had done since Lilith had worked out she could wear these human suits. 

She had made Lilith feel like she was wanted.

She makes her way up the driveway to the mortuary and is about to knock but the door is already open; an abandoned pair of shoes that look like they’ve been at the bottom of a river begin a trail of mud that leads over the threshold, across the hall and up the stairs. 

She finds Hilda in front of the bathroom mirror, holding herself up on the sink and trying to scrub at her neck with a cloth, as the bath taps roar and vent huge clouds of steam. The pithy line she’d prepared for this moment dies on Lilith’s lips. Instead, seeing Hilda filthy and smelling of death causes an intake of breath that has Hilda jumping and screaming and then Lilith shouting and waving her hands around and how no one gets hurt is a dark miracle. 

“What are you doing here!?” Hilda shouts, shaking. 

“I… I don’t actually know…!” she shouts back. “I came to…. I don’t know!”

“Well, bugger off then!” Hilda’s chest heaves. Her tears have left two clean tracks. 

But Lilith can’t leave. She sees the angry red wound around Hilda’s neck, the dry blood and wet soil, feels the pain and fatigue. “What happened?”

Hilda turns back to the rapidly fogging mirror and angrily wipes at her neck. “Bloody Zelda happened. She…” It always sounds so ridiculous when she says it out loud. “She killed me. Again.” 

“Oh, Hilda,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.” She reaches out to brush the dirt away from Hilda’s throat, her face, her hair. Hilda stares at the floor, buzzing with humiliation. She takes the cloth from Hilda’s hand, gently lifts her chin and when Hilda finally makes eye contact, she begins wiping away the tear tracks. When her face is clean, she bends to press a small kiss to Hilda’s mouth and understands why she smells of the earth; she is both life and death and Lilith is entranced. 

“You are a dark little thing, aren’t you? Really?” 

Hilda doesn’t answer. Instead, she stands on tiptoes and kisses her back, subdued and unsure, her still dirty hands streaking Lilith’s jaw. When she pulls away and sees what she has done, she gives a tired, world-weary laugh and Lilith is done for. She presses herself to Hilda, not caring that her clothes are being soaked through, and wraps her arms around her because she knows this will bring comfort. It’s not until Lilith feels Hilda shivering that they part. 

“Let’s get you….”

“Out of these clothes…?” Hilda gives another tired laugh, winces in pain. “All these years, and I’m being seduced with muddy kisses and a cliché.”

Lilith unbuttons the filthy cardigan, pushes the sodden dress from Hilda's shoulders, helps her out of her underwear. When she is naked but for the candlelight and holding Lilith’s hands for support, she steps into scalding water and slips under, eyes closed in bliss. Lilith kicks off her shoes, kneels next to the tub.

“I told her that I was here. Zelda. I told her and I…. implied something happened between us,” Lilith says when Hilda resurfaces. “This is my fault.”

Hilda sits up and pulls her knees to her chest, setting a wave of water cascading around her. She looks very young in the dim light.

“Well, then. If I’d known I was going to get killed for it anyway, I would have let you have your wicked way with me.” 

She's trying hard to keep up her facade, but her spirit is fading. Lilith takes a sponge and starts to clean soft shoulders and down Hilda's back until her skin is flushed pink and the water is turning cloudy, working in a silence that Hilda finally breaks. 

“It doesn’t matter, you know? That you told her. If you hadn’t, she would have found another reason eventually. She’s been at it for centuries.” She gives a sad smile. “Once, she stabbed me, right here,” she leans back, points to a faint white line on her gut, “because she thought I’d sent my spiders to spy on her and her bit of rough. And this,” she pulls her damp hair up over a dent at the base of her skull, “with a poker. Because according to her, I’d been making eyes at a girl she liked at Dark Mass.” She reels off a litany of motives and weapons, each accompanied by a welt or scar.

“Then why stay?” 

Hilda wraps her arms tighter around herself. 

“Because she can’t live without me.”

It is a deceptively simple statement that brings silence again. 

The tap drips like a heartbeat. Hilda closes her eyes and lets Lilith take her arms and lather them, rinse and rub, until the charge in the air from the pain and humiliation eases and she allows herself to lay back. Lilith loses herself in massaging rigored muscles under yielding flesh, kissing the blemishes she comes across until the water is almost cold. 

“I’ve never had anyone wash me before…” Hilda’s voice is a growl. 

“Well, I’ve never washed anyone before…” Lilith helps her rise, cleansed and glowing, and wraps a towel around her. Hilda is exhausted, swaying on her feet. 

“I could eat a horse…” she muses, her eyes are closing again, and Lilith wraps an arm around her waist to hold her upright. 

“Then I’ll get you one.” She bundles her out of the bathroom and to the sisters’ room and Hilda is not entirely sure if she’s serious or not. “But for now, you need sleep.”

She watches over her from the chair beside Hilda’s bed until the first rays of sun. 

When Hilda wakes, she is gone.


	6. Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda's back and she's bringing the angst. (She's also a bit OOC.)
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote it on the bus on my phone. :/

From the slant of the sun and the gentle grumbling of the house, Hilda can tell it's mid morning when she finally wakes up and from the still made bed, she can tell Zelda didn't come home. She swings her stiff legs out of bed and stretches her feet in preparation for what she knows will be a slow walk to the kitchen.

Zelda appears with the twilight. Hilda is in the living room. She doesn't doesn't acknowledge Zelda, instead keeps her attention on the fire she is building. 

"I see you made it out then?" Zelda says softly as she sets her decanter and glass on the table and shrugs out of her coat. Though she changed her clothes after burying Hilda, there are still tiny spots of blood spattering her exposed skin. "I'm... I'm sorry I had to do it." 

Hilda finally turns to look at her. 

“You must have been very upset, judging by the ridiculous amount of food in the kitchen.. " 

"It brings me comfort, you know that."

Zelda pours a drink, unable to resist a poke. "We can see that..." 

"Yes, well,” Hilda stands, wiping ash from her hands. “I have to find it somewhere and it's never been from you, has it?" 

Zelda has the good grace to look away, but the arrogance not to answer. She lights a cigarette. 

"So do you want to tell me what I did wrong this time?" 

Zelda answers with a column of smoke. 

"I think you're well aware. The Wardwell woman? Really? It smacks of desperation, Hilda." 

"And what about you?" Hilda is incredulous at the hypocrisy.

"I'm far from desperate and what Mary and I do... did... was purely physical, nothing more than taking care of a biological urge. She was as aware of that as I was. You on the other hand, no doubt, had some kind of romantic notion that it would lead to something else and you were heading for embarrassment. Again." She swirls the brandy in her glass, takes a swig. "I couldn't let you continue." 

"But I didn't do anything! _We_ didn't do anything. She tried to kiss me, I panicked...“ Hilda is flushed. "And I sent her away."

She turns back to the fire to hide her blush, takes the poker and jabs at the smouldering logs. 

“Then we’ll consider it nipped in the bud and hear no more of the matter.” Zelda picks up her newspaper. Silence falls, the fire crackles weakly and the seconds tick by. Hilda does not consider the matter nipped in the bud. 

"You know, she asked why I stay. Do you know what I told her?"

"Satan only knows."

"I told her that you can't live without me." 

Zelda laughs from behind the paper. "I don’t know where you got that idea. Trust me, Hilda, I could certainly manage without you."

"Then why do you keep bringing me back? Why not just kill me and leave me be?” Zelda sighs, crumples the paper in annoyance at Hilda’s inability to leave well enough alone. “You might ridicule me, Zelda. You can make fun of me and bring me down until the cows come home but I’ve seen the way you look at me. I've heard you in the bed next to me. You break me so your shame has no kindling and I'm tired of it."

Zelda's temper finally cracks. She folds the newspaper, stands to tower over her sister. She’s used this same intimidation a thousand times and a thousand times, Hilda has been cowed into submission. 

"Then leave. If its such a hardship, pack your bag and go find somewhere to die a lonely spinster. You think I look at you? Defile myself for _you_? You’re an embarrassment to the Spellman name." 

The fire finally takes hold and Hilda is silhouetted. She’s still holding the poker and Zelda's breath catches. She steps back a half step. There is a brief and terrifying moment when Zelda realizes that she walks a fine line, that one day she might just push Hilda too far and today might be that day. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Hilda.” She calls her bluff. “You don’t have the courage. If you had, you’d have done it years ago." Adrenaline pulses through her and she pulls on her cigarette to remain calm. Hilda shakes her head, returns the poker to its stand. Zelda exhales, smoke curling around her relief. 

"No you're right, I wouldn't." Her fingers stray to the welt at the base of her skull. "Not like that. It's an awful way to kill someone." 

"Certainly one of my least inventive." Zelda grinds the cigarette out, takes a drink to stop her hands shaking. 

Hilda folds her own hands in front of her and she speaks so quietly that Zelda isn’t sure she’s heard correctly. 

"But I am going to kill you."

It starts with a dimming at the edges of Zelda's vision, a visual disturbance that crackles like static. The shaking in her hands worsens and they grow ice cold. She drops the glass and when it hits the rug, it doesn't shatter but cracks in half, spilling what’s left of its traitorous contents. Her chest tightens, her throat burns and she begins to suffocate. 

"I've tried to make it as painless as possible." Hilda's voice is still soft but it's definitely shaking. "But there will be some discomfort. I’m sorry about that. It's not easy, dying."

Zelda scrambles back into her chair, pulling at the high collar of her blouse, eyes wide, mouth open. She's making an odd, wet, sucking sound. 

"Don't panic, that will just make it worse." 

Zelda falls forward on her hands and knees, clawing at her neck, all sinews and tendons. Her vision is pinpointing and her oxygen starved brain gifts her a moment of euphoria, before the terror races back to fill the void. Blood cells begin to slow their rhythmic march through her veins; one by one, her organs start to shut down. 

"Please understand, I had to do this. It has to stop, Zelda. You have to let me go."

Hilda sounds so far away. The roaring in her ears is an ocean and Zelda knows that she has lost her. Lost. She's finally lost her. 

Then Hilda's arms are around her waist, and she's pulled into a sitting position, half sprawling, half in Hilda’s lap. She grabs at Hilda’s sturdy shoulders to pull herself up, burrows into the warm neck still healing from the bite of the garrotte. Hilda's pulse is strong and steady at her temple. She rises and falls with Hilda's breathing, until everything is her sister, the one constant she's ever had, always too much and now, not enough. She smells vanilla and sweat, woodsmoke and earth and there, just under it all, like a taint, Mary. 

"Don't worry. It won't last long. And it’s your first time, you’ll come back quickly." Hilda is rocking her like a newborn, her embrace tight. "I know that doesn't make it any less terrifying, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….” She kisses Zelda gently, rests a cheek on the forehead. “But it’s just like I said, Zelds. Just like I told Mary.” She sniffs and wipes away the tiny freckles of her own blood that have dried to russet, runs her fingers through Zelda’s hair. “You can’t live without me.” 

Zelda hiccups a tiny gulp of air; her last breath is an apology. 

She feels Hilda's tears on her face and then there is nothing.


	7. Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. It took a while, but I went there. 
> 
> Blatant Hilda love. That's all it is. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with it until the end. 💙

When Zelda wakes up, she's not under the ground that had been her dying fear, but under a comforter in a bed not her own. Confused, she stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling. 

Hilda is sitting in a corner and when she senses Zelda is awake, she puts her book down, folds her hands in her lap to stop them shaking. 

“You didn’t…” Zelda is both furious and relieved. 

“No.” Hilda’s voice is pitched low, quiet. “No, I didn’t.” 

Zelda remains silent, pushes herself into a sitting position. Under the covers, she is naked and while she is embarrassed, there’s tiny part of her that is a little aroused at the thought of Hilda stripping her, touching her skin, carrying her, although a few bruised areas on her behind indicate the trip up the stairs was not a smooth one. She rubs at the soreness. 

“Sorry. Dead weight… well, you know. Still, could have been worse, couldn’t it? You could have been... actually dead.” Hilda’s eyes are hooded in the candlelight, and it’s unnerving. This is a Hilda she hasn’t seen before, quiet, reserved. She's not sure she likes it. “That’s not really my style, is it, though?” 

Zelda knows it isn’t. Hilda creates, brings things to life in abundance, she nourishes, heals and comforts. She does not harm, but that doesn’t means she’s incapable of it and Satan knows Hilda is more than capable. The threat has been made, Hilda has drawn a line and Zelda knows that the balance of power has shifted. 

“Now,” Hilda climbs up on the bed to sit face to face with her sister. “We have a situation here and I’ve thought long and hard about how we can resolve this so that everyone gets what they want.” The line sounds rehearsed, she must have been running it over and over in her head while Zelda slept. She draws a breath to say something else, thinks better of it, reaches up to caress Zelda’s face, and leans in to kiss her. Zelda pulls back, suspicious. She has only just been introduced to this new Hilda, centuries of being able to read her like a book have been rendered useless and she can't tell if this is a joke. 

"You’ve made your point with your poison. You don’t need to do this. Don't be cruel, Hilda.” 

Hilda is not cruel. But she’s also not alone. When Mary Wardwell steps out of the shadows, Zelda suddenly feels very exposed and she pulls up the blankets to cover herself.

"Was this her idea...? To play with me?” 

“Hello, _Zelds_ ,” Lilith croons with a smug grin. “Not dead, I see?” She carefully arranges herself on the chair still warm from Hilda, crossing her legs, working on her best angle. 

Zelda looks between Hilda and Mary. Her senses are still dulled from the poison and she’s not sure if she is really dead and this is the afterlife she deserves, or if she’s hallucinating. 

Hilda’s lips on her own feel real enough. When she senses Hilda's empathy tentatively probing, she shuts herself off, unreadable, but not as much as she'd like. 

“Oh, I thought you’d like that…” Lilith growls. “I know I did. She’s unpolished of course, her technique needs work, but she gets an A plus from me for enthusiasm.”

“Shut up, Mary,” Hilda whispers, pulling back and licking her lips. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Zelda, gauging every breath, every flicker. After all that has happened, she still wants approval. 

"How was that...?" 

Zelda can’t answer. For once in her life, Hilda is not enough; she needs more. Her heart is beating so hard that it's causing ripples in the air between them; Hilda takes Zelda's hand, presses her mouth to the wrist and suckles gently on the delicate skin, until Zelda can feel the pulse radiate to between her legs. 

Hilda's teeth nipping and soothing are her undoing. If this is an hallucination, she might as well enjoy it. If they want to play with her, she’ll get something out of it too. She lets the covers fall. Lilith sits forward in her chair; this is the Zelda she knows. _This_ is where things will get interesting. 

Zelda uses her magic to flick the buttons open on Hilda's dress, delayed gratification tensing her from the inside out. She slows her breathing as inch by glorious, candlelit inch, Hilda is revealed to her. Finally, when she can't resist any longer, she slips her hand under the fabric. Hilda isn't wearing anything underneath; she’s come prepared. She’s shaking and giggly with nerves. Zelda knows each of her sister’s curves, freckles, scars as well as her own, but this is like unwrapping all her Solstice gifts in one flowery cotton package. Now Hilda is the one with the racing pulse and Zelda licks at the thrumming skin at her neck. All those years sneaking looks and now, here in right in front of her, she is allowed not only to look but to touch, kiss, own. She starts to use her teeth. Hilda squeaks at the sharp pain

"Ah, ah gentle, Zelda! She’s not me, after all. Our Hilda is a delicate flower... " Lilith gives an exaggerated wink and smiles sweetly. "You can have at me later..."

Hilda hops down from the bed, starts pulling at her cardigan, but she hesitates before removing her dress. She's about to cross back over that relocated line, there's no going back after this. She looks at Mary, draped over the chair, all long limbs, scarlet lips and black hair and at Zelda, on all fours on the bed and they want her. Both of them. At the same time. Her resolve hardens, realigning her vertebrae and, head held high, she let's it fall

In the corner, Lilith squirms in her chair, waiting for her cue, a point not only to make as dramatic an entrance as possible, but to be with them, be a part of them. It's a pretty sight though, her own personal show: the lithe, sinewy Zelda finally allowed free rein at Hilda's plushness. She watches Zelda runs her hands over Hilda's hips, her kisses harder now, less hesitant. Even from across the room she can smell the arousal. The signal to join can’t come quick enough; she’s biting her lip so hard she’s almost drawing blood. Hilda doesn’t even pull away from Zelda’s mouth when she beckons Lilith to join them, her finger crooked once. Lilith is surprised at the little skip her heart gives when Zelda also reaches for her. She climbs up behind Hilda, smooths her palms over pale shoulders, brushes lips just under blonde curls, all the while unbuttoning and slipping off her own clothes as quickly as she can. She exchanges a glance with Zelda, sits back against the headboard, settles Hilda between her legs, reaches around and cups full breasts so that Zelda can pay them more attention. They fill her hands, so unlike her own; she knows she’s going to enjoy playing with those.... Zelda gently rolls her tongue around the pastel pink nipples she’s presented with until Hilda, unable to take the stimulation, is pushing back into Lilith with such force that Lilith has to catch her breath. Hilda holds her sister away for a moment, her face flushed. Every inch of her feels charged. 

“Sorry... Sorry... Just… I need… a minute…” she gasps. "It’s all a bit much..."

Lilith holds her, stroking her hair and Zelda smiles so wickedly, Lilith just about comes then and there. Zelda bites down Hilda's belly, grips her hips. Finally, after all the centuries, this, just... _this_. She can be buried in Hilda's soft flesh, her warmth, her musk, her taste and she would die happy. 

With Lilith at her back and her sister between her legs, Hilda’s mental walls crumble, her barriers fall and everything is so intense that it is almost painful for her to process it all. Zelda’s tongue, flicking at her little bundle of nerves, and Lilith’s thin fingers pinching her nipples bring the first flash of orgasm, and with her defenses down, Hilda can't contain the climax and it radiates out with her as the epicentre. An empathetic shockwave washes over Zelda and Lilith simultaneously. For an instant, they are one, a triptych in white release, then it consumes them all and Hilda screams her sister’s name with one hand tangled in red hair, one in black. 

Lilith rides out her own peak, holding Hilda tight, while they disconnect, kisses her as she comes down. 

There is a stunned silence. 

"Unholy.... shit..." Hilda pants. "I’m… I’m sorry but I am going to need to do that again... " 

Zelda wipes her mouth in shock, collapses, lets out a loud laugh but for once, there is no malice. 

"Well, not to speak for your sister, of course, but I will also need you to do that again...." Lilith slumps against the pillows, pulling her little revelation down with her, covering them with the comforter. “My little spoon…”

Zelda pulls herself up on wobbly limbs, climbs under the covers with them, wraps her arms around her sister, buries her face in soft damp skin, entwines her fingers with Lilith’s. 

"I concur..." she murmurs, drifting off in her sister’s embrace. Hilda brushes Zelda’s hair away from her face, plants a goodnight kiss on her forehead, settles back in Lilith’s arms. 

“I’m glad I came back for you, Hilda Spellman…” Lilith whispers. 

Hilda smiles, sleeps.


End file.
